Overflow
by bravevulnerability
Summary: 'He finds Kate Beckett standing in the middle of her small kitchen, an umbrella opened over her head, her entire body soaked in the water that's breaching her ceiling and coming down hard on her and everything she owns.' Inspired by a prompt from castlefanficprompts. Two shot. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Just a little AU that explores what could have happened if Castle and Beckett had met solely because they live in the same apartment building. Inspired by a prompt from the castlefanficprompts page that I will place at the end of the story.**

* * *

Through the spray of the water exploding from his bathroom sink and turning his en suite into an indoor water park, he hears the yelling of his name coming from the apartment below, her shouting muffled but angry and just a bit panicked, and he has no idea why Kate Beckett from the floor below would be screaming at him unless- oh _no._

Rick drops the bucket of water cradled in his arm to race through his apartment and out his front door, leaving a damp path along the hallway carpet as he hurries towards the stairs, nearly slipping halfway down to the next floor before turning in her hallway and sprinting to the door with the puddle of water pooling out into the hall.

"Son of a bitch!"

Oh, she's going to kill him. Kate is a cop, a homicide detective, and he's seen her down in the building's gym at the dawn of morning or the late afternoons; he has no doubt she could seriously injure a person with her bare hands if she wanted to.

Yeah, he's dead.

He knocks on her door before he tries the handle, finding it unlocked and pushing inside to see Kate Beckett standing in the middle of her small kitchen, an umbrella opened over her head and tears mingling with the water that's streaming down her face.

She's drenched, her entire body soaked in the water that's breaching her ceiling and coming down hard on her and everything she owns. And his heart cracks a little at that, to see all of her belongings drowning and sodden, to see her face pulled tight with frustration yet crumbling with exasperation at the same time.

"I'm sorry!" he shouts, navigating through the torrential downpour of her foyer to join her in the kitchen, dipping under the umbrella, half expecting her to smack him with it.

It isn't necessarily his fault that his pipes had burst, the issue was quite common in the dead of winter, but he had noticed the water pressure running low over the last few days and he had planned to call a plumber to look at it, but apparently, he waited too long and now a single pipe has her apartment looking as if it's been hit by a monsoon.

"The plumber is already on his way," Rick assures her, taking the umbrella from her hands so she can wipe at the mixture of tears and water creating trails of mascara down her face. "I'm sorry, Kate. I swear I'll fix it all and replace everything-"

"Money doesn't replace everything, Mr. Castle," she snaps, glaring up at him beneath the cove of the umbrella, the excess water failing to extinguish the fire in her eyes. The impersonal addressing of his surname has his brow spiking, but he doesn't dare correct her on it, not when he's still at risk of being beaten with an umbrella.

But suddenly, the water comes to a stop, the pelt of manmade rain hitting the umbrella ceasing and Rick sighs in relief, lowering the weather protection and glancing upwards to see the ceiling still dripping, but no longer leaking bucketfuls of water.

Kate is already stepping away from him, though, trudging through the lake of her living room to disappear down a short hall. Rick follows with hesitance, the splash of his footsteps doing little to conceal his whereabouts, but she doesn't look up when he stops in her bedroom doorway. Her eyes are trained on the box in her shaking hands, a picture of a man and a woman on the front, and his heart sinks as he hears her release a heavy exhale.

"Pictures?" he asks quietly, entering her bedroom and approaching with caution to stand beside her.

"Some," she mumbles. "Mostly just little momentos. The box kept some of them dry. Wish I could say the same for my closet."

Rick follows the flick of her eyes to an open doorway not far from her sodden bed, cringes at the rows of ruined clothing and shoes.

"Just tell me how much, Kate. I know I can't replace everything, but I can help with your wardrobe, your furniture-"

"What the hell did you even do?" she demands in exasperation.

"Nothing!" he defends, his hands raised between them in supplication, but she still glares at him through the barrier of his palms. "I really didn't expect my pipes to burst."

Kate sighs, scrapes a hand through her sopping hair and surveys the soaked mess of her bedroom. "The plumber must have found his way into your apartment, you should-"

"I should help you clean up first," he argues, already turning towards her walk in. Surely not all of her clothes are susceptible to some water damage and his dry cleaner is amazing, he's certain the man could salvage a good portion of her wardrobe if she would let him. "I can start in your closet and then together we can work through your living room-"

Kate's hand on his arm stops him, the heat of her fingers curled at the crook of his elbow drawing him back, memories of her hands filling his mind, evoking fissions of electricity in his blood, and she quickly drops her hand from his skin, takes a splashing step back.

"Kate-"

"No, just... you can help later. You need to be in your apartment right now, not smart to leave a stranger alone up there."

Castle sighs, knows that she's right, but it's the first time he's seen her since... well, since the last time she kicked him out of her apartment, and he already craves her company again.

"Alexis isn't up there, is she?" Kate questions suddenly, concern spreading quick and sharp through her eyes, but Rick shakes his head.

"No, luckily she's at her mother's for the week. Though, I'm not sure which is worse - apartment tsunami or a week with Meredith."

"Rick," she chastises, hiding a blooming smile behind the wet mop of her hair, and he reaches out before he can think better of it, combs a dripping strand behind her ear. Kate tenses under the touch, her eyes flickering back to him with warning and apprehension, but he's already retracting the digits, trailing them along the harsh bone of her cheek as he turns to go.

"I'll bring some towels when I come back," he calls over his shoulder, hears her huff while he trudges down the stream of her hallway and back out into the ruins of her living room.

He was familiar with her home once, grew to love the place actually, and seeing the interior practically destroyed causes a frown to carve itself deep into his lips. Money can't replace everything, no, but he does plan to spend whatever he can rebuilding her a home.

It's the least he can do.

* * *

Kate is shivering by the time Rick comes back less than an hour later, her damp clothes drying but adding to the winter chill seeping into the apartment as they cling to her frame. But it's not as if she has anything dry to change into. Her entire apartment - every inch of every room - is soaked and while she knows her losses are just material, she couldn't help crying in her kitchen after Rick had left. The stress of work, of her mother's case, is more than enough to weigh her down, but the destruction of her apartment, her safe haven, is the final straw. And now, all she wants is to crawl into her bed, to sleep for a solid eight hours and forget about all of it, forget about him.

But her mattress has been turned into a water bed.

"Hey," Castle greets, a tired half smile on his face as he finds her in the bedroom, sorting through her bureau.

"How'd you get in? I locked the door after you left," she mutters, adding a pair of sweatpants to the lounge clothes draped over her arm. Her dresser wasn't able to fully protect the clothing stored there, but it saved them from the worst of the damage.

"Oh, I used the hidden key," he shrugs, coming towards her with the promised bundle of towels in his arms.

She almost wants to punch him for that, to yell at him for just barging into her apartment without having the decency to knock, but she lacks the energy to be mad at him anymore, to hate him for helping.

"Have you talked to the landlord yet?" Castle asks and another wave of fatigue washes through her bloodstream, but Kate nods.

"Yeah, rental insurance will cover the basics, but all personal belongings are my own responsibility," she recites from memory of the conversation had not long after Rick had returned to his own apartment. Their landlord was pretty good about caring for the building, ensuring that tenants were satisfied with their living situations, but the man was far from sympathetic when it came to personal disasters such as this. "What about you?"

"I probably received the same speech as you," Rick sighs, surveying her bedroom again with guilt fleeting but strong in his eyes and she doesn't want that. He was right earlier, it isn't his fault a pipe burst and flooded his apartment, along with hers. "But most of my stuff is fine, anything that wasn't on the ground or in my bathroom, and I can have someone come out and repair all of it by tomorrow. So make sure you're free by noon-"

"Rick, no, I can just wait until they send someone over, you don't need to-"

"It's already done," he states, final and leaving no room for argument, and Kate purses her lips. The last thing she needs is to _owe_ him. "Don't overthink it, Kate."

"I'm not," she snaps, too quick, giving herself away if the arch of his brow is any indication.

"Oh, I brought you some clothes," he adds and Kate stiffens, her fingers clenching in the damp cotton slung over her arm.

"I'm not wearing your clothes, Castle," she murmurs, but he huffs, rolls his eyes at her, and adds a pair of jeans and a sweater to the pile hanging from her arm.

"They're not mine. Those are yours," he explains, nodding to the grey sweater she thought she had lost and the jeans she had assumed were just buried in her laundry hamper. "I just never had the chance to give them back."

Kate swallows hard, her eyes still trained on the clothes, too cowardly to look up and meet the gaze she feels on her. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," he says, but when she finally lifts her gaze, he's watching her, too much tenderness in the dulled pools of his eyes. Too much longing.

She misses him.

The thought has her heart in her throat and she glances towards the en suite for safety.

"I'm just going to get changed."

"I'll start going through your books," he answers, already starting for the door. "I need to know if mine survived the downpour."

And just like that, the fear is gone, false indignation arising in her face to hide her amusement. "I'm more concerned with my Patterson novels," she throws back, hearing his growl of disapproval echo in the hall, and Kate leans back against the doorjamb, lifts her returned clothes to her nose.

They smell like him now.

* * *

"This is a tragedy," he whines, _In A Hail of Bullets_ opened atop his lap along with his other bestsellers, the pages hardened and stuck together. Irreparable. "Only like two of my books survived and they're not even the good ones."

" _Flowers For Your Grave_ happens to be a personal favorite of mine," Kate protests, stealing the dampened but unsoiled book from his knee, and he resists the urge to smirk, to tease her as he first had when he'd learned she was a fan of his works. "Shut up, Castle."

"I didn't say anything!"

"Yet," she grumbles, striding away from where he sits surrounded by waterlogged novels on one of the few dry spots of her floor and depositing the book onto the counter. They've managed to work through her entire bookshelf and the number of written works that managed to make it through the flood are few, hardly enough to fill a single shelf.

Castle watches her place his novel atop the small pile sitting on her kitchen counter, her gaze mournful as her fingers drift over the moistened spines. Kate's already divested her closet of its ruins, found what could be saved and determined which items were beyond repair while he did the same in her living room and kitchen. So far, he intends to buy Kate Beckett enough furniture to fill a home decor magazine and enough books to restock her shelves.

"So have you talked to your dad?" Her fingers trip over the books, landing on the counter with a soft thump.

"No, I'll call him tomorrow," she murmurs, but Castle's brow furrows and he removes the dilapidated books from his lap, unfolds his legs so he can stand.

"But, Kate, I thought that's where you would stay until your apartment is fixed," he replies, approaching her with typical caution, feeling the tension that climbs her spine and settles in her shoulders radiating from her bones, warning him to stay back.

"I can't," she mumbles, easing her elbows onto the countertop, training her gaze straight ahead on the assortment of dishes he hand dried and arranged neatly atop one of his towels from home.

"I don't understand-"

"The anniversary of my mom's death was earlier this week, Castle. My dad and I never handle it well, so adding this to his plate right now is not an option I'm going to take."

He pauses at her kitchen sink, only a step away from her, but unable to breach that last breath of distance. After so many nights in Kate Beckett's bed, he eventually learned about her mother, all the details that made her jaw square and her eyes harden despite the tears that filled them. He knew how the death of Johanna Beckett had shredded her, how raw her grief still was even after a near twelve years, and how the unsolved case consumed every piece of her life without mercy. He knew it all too well.

After all, his foolish attempt to draw her away from the black hole of a case was what had caused her to shut him out of her life three months ago.

"I'll check into a hotel for the night, find out if I can crash with my friend, Lanie, for a while."

"No." The single syllable breaks past his lips before he can stop it, but he doesn't take it back, doesn't try to defend himself against the threatening look of question she throws at him. "You can stay with me. I have a guest room and it's the least I can do when I'm the reason you have to find somewhere else to stay in the first place."

"I appreciate the courtesy, Rick, but no thanks," she mutters, jerking her elbows from the countertop to stand straight, squaring her shoulders as she moves to walk past him, but he snags her by the arm.

"If anything, we're friends, right?" Her eyes flick down to the hand coiled at her wrist, challenge flaring in her gaze when it flies back to him. "That's what you told my daughter, didn't you?"

"Don't bring Alexis into this, she doesn't know about any of it-"

"No, but you told my kid we were friends and we were friends before... before we were more, weren't we?"

Kate exhales a sharp breath through her nostrils, but he refuses to let her deny that in the early days, when he had first met the newest tenant of his building while she was still moving in, they had been friends. He had helped her haul a few of her boxes into her new place nearly a year ago, had marveled over her when she had revealed that she was only moving into the building because her last had exploded due to a serial killer who'd chosen her as his latest obsession. He had known from the first day that he wanted her, the spark instant and palpable, but for the first month, it had been innocent - nothing more than passing smiles and small talk in the halls or the lobby. But then his daughter had invited her over for dinner one afternoon upon noticing that Kate wasn't having the greatest of days and everything had changed.

"Maybe she had a rough case and just needs some cheering up, Dad," Alexis had chirped in the elevator after sharing the lift with a sullen Kate for her three floor ride up.

His daughter had been right, of course; Kate had nearly frozen to death hardly 24 hours beforehand, trapped in a freezer long enough to suffer from hypothermia alongside her two partners and still suffering from the chill when she had opened her door to him and an eager Alexis at his side. He knew Kate had only accepted out of consideration for his daughter - not many could say no to her - but the hot meal had done her good, in his opinion, and the two of them had even managed to coerce a few genuine smiles from Kate's lips even though the ice had still lingered in her eyes.

"They all had someone to live for," she had told him over a glass of wine once dinner was done and Alexis had retired to her bedroom to study. "I've been in a lot of near death situations over the years, Castle, but it didn't strike me until I was freezing to death that I haven't been doing a commendable job of living myself."

"Well, what makes you feel alive, Kate?" he had asked, watching her stare into the red wine in her glass, searching for answers, before her eyes had lifted to him.

He hadn't tried to stop her from leaning across the couch, hadn't protested when she dusted her lips over his and whispered into his mouth, "This."

He hadn't stopped her, he'd taken her to bed, and eventually that had become their life together - nights spent in bed, reaffirming life and exchanging stories from between sheets. But after six months, he had wanted more and she had been scared, timid but willing to try for him, for a chance at how amazing they could be together.

Until he had screwed it all up.

Then again, maybe destroying each other's hearts had been a dual effort.

"We may have ended badly," he continues at her silence. "But as your friend, I am offering you a place to stay that's right up a flight of stairs, just until your apartment is repaired and livable again. It doesn't mean anything."

Her eyes flash at that, remorse skittering through the murky browns of her irises, and Kate shakes her head, tugs her bottom lip between her teeth. He expects her to snap out something passive aggressive, something biting, but she surprises him, still surprises him, and leans forward, drops her head to his shoulder.

Weary, he thinks, is the word that would describe her best as she stays with her forehead to his clavicle and Castle carefully lifts a hand to her back, flattens his palm between the rigid wings of her shoulder blades and tentatively rests his cheek to the top of her head. Kate sighs, one of her hands rising to curl at his side, nails snaring in the fabric of his t-shirt to hang onto him with her weak grip.

"I'm sorry, Kate," he whispers, hoping that she knows it's for everything. For the state of her apartment, for the latest anniversary of her mother's death, for what happened to them.

Her breath shudders through her ribs before it leaves her quivering lips, but she turns her head, pressing her cheek to his collarbone and releasing her hold on his shirt to snake her arm around his waist. Castle hugs her back, tight and secure just how he'd wanted to when he had walked in to find her crying under the shield of her umbrella a mere four hours ago, and smears a kiss to her hairline.

Kate ducks away from the brush of his mouth but doesn't leave his arms, burying her face in his neck instead, arousing a stirring warmth beneath his skin as she mumbles words into his throat.

"We're friends."


	2. Chapter 2

Castle unlocks the door and allows her to enter the loft first, and for a moment, she's frozen in the foyer, her breath caught in her lungs at the swarm of memories she hadn't been prepared for.

It's strange, almost uncomfortable, to be back in his home. Most nights had been spent at her place, her empty apartment far more suitable for their nighttime activities than the loft that contained both his mother and daughter, but she had been to his loft enough times for the place to feel like a second home after awhile.

The majority of her memories consist of his home bathed in the night sky and city lights that glittered outside his living room windows, of how beautiful he looked in manmade starlight while he walked her - sometimes carried her - to his bedroom, but not all moments spent in his home were born of clandestine meetings from all the times she showed up after his daughter had disappeared to bed and she had been unable to wait any longer.

Kate knew his daughter, his mother too, solely from living in the same building, and she had been over for dinner multiple times, sometimes even staying over for breakfast if they could get away with it. Martha had figured them out, she was sure of it, but Alexis had remained oblivious to the 'friends with benefits' style escapades that eventually escalated into more than she could have ever anticipated.

"Chinese?" he assumes, the phone already to his ear, and Kate nods, too exhausted to protest.

She sets her duffel of meager belongings down in the foyer, never having actually seen the guest room and unsure of its location, and follows his lead into the kitchen. While he recites their orders, not even having to ask to remember what she likes, Kate takes a seat on the barstool she had always claimed as hers, folds her arms atop the smooth marble of the breakfast bar and lowers her head to rest on the bones of her forearms.

"Okay, see you in twenty, thanks," she hears him say, the sound of his phone being placed on the island following, and then his footsteps, soft but growing louder the closer he comes to her.

He doesn't speak, but Castle's hand rises to her neck once he's standing beside her, his fingers digging into the knotted flesh between her shoulders and just beneath her skull before slipping into her hair, brushing through the kinked waves the locks have dried into. He used to do the same thing at night, every time she ended up falling into bed with him after a brutal day at the precinct. He loved to touch her, so much so it was sometimes maddening, but after six months of sleeping with him, she had grown accustomed to his habits, his incessant need to touch and stroke. She'd even started to like it a little.

"You can go lie down for a while if you're tired," he murmurs, trailing his short nails along her scalp, soothing the headache pounding through her skull. "I can keep the food warm for you."

"No, it's okay," Kate assures him, his hand falling away as she lifts her head. "But maybe you could show me to the guest room so I can drop my stuff off?"

Castle nods and trots off to the foyer, grabs her bag for her and starts for the stairs while Kate slips from the barstool and trails along after him.

The guest bedroom is lovely, tasteful and welcoming just like the rest of his home, nearly twice the size of her own bedroom. It's more than she deserves, but Castle is already babbling before she can examine the room in its entirety, before she can express her gratitude.

"And the bathroom's right through there, but if for any reason you're not comfortable, just let me know and you can have my room instead. I don't mind sleeping in here and I would completely-"

"Castle," she huffs, stealing her bag from his fingers and depositing it at the foot of the queen sized bed in the middle of the room. "This is perfectly fine, I promise."

His chest expands with relief and she rolls her eyes at him, the silly man, and brushes her knuckles along his hand in appreciation as she drifts past him, out of the intimate space of the bedroom and back towards the stairs.

* * *

Dinner goes by too quickly, but he relishes every second, revels in how easy it can still be between them. They talk about his daughter and her temporary stay in LA, they discuss his mother and her acting successes and failures that Kate admonishes him for releasing a laugh at Martha's expense, and go over a few of her latest, more exciting cases. All safe topics they once exchanged on a nightly basis, but it doesn't feel safe at all to be back on his couch with her.

It's dangerous to have her back in his life like this and he knows by the caution in her gaze that she's come to the same realization.

"Thanks for dinner, Rick," she murmurs, rising from the couch with her plate in her hands and depositing it in the sink along with her silverware and unfinished glass of water. "But it's been a long day."

"Do you have to work tomorrow?" he inquires, mimicking her actions and placing his dishes in the sink alongside hers.

"No, thankfully," she chuckles, plucking at the hem of her sweater as they both stand in the kitchen. Too close in a confined space. "I haven't had a day off in awhile and we have no open cases right now, so I called Montgomery earlier."

"Good, you never take enough time off," he reminds her, earning a familiar roll of eyes that makes his heart pump in the stupidest of ways. "Any requests for breakfast? If I remember correctly, you were quite the fan of my infamous s'morelette."

"You must have amnesia because never again would I put that in my mouth. The only reason I even tried it was because you tricked me into thinking it was a regular omelette," she states with crossed arms and a playfully curved brow.

"If you would have known the truth, you never would have given it a chance," he whines, earning an incredulous laugh that has an involuntary smile creeping across his lips.

"No, I wouldn't have, because mixing chocolate and marshmallows with eggs will never be okay, Castle."

Rick waves her off. "You have your opinions, I have mine."

"Mm, only difference is that mine tend to always be right," she teases, shifting forward to bump his shoulder with her own.

"See if you get any breakfast at all tomorrow morning."

Kate scoffs, the grin on her lips so lovely and full, and he wishes he still owned the right to kiss her. "I have no doubt you'll make pancakes, Castle."

"You think so?"

She nods, the upturned curve of her lips softening, slowly dimming into a sorrowful half smile that has his stomach clenching. "You always made me pancakes, every time we spent a morning together."

It hurts to remember. The last three months, he's done a fair job of blocking images of Kate from his mind, though it's no easy feat when she lives in the same building and running into her has always been inevitable, but he had been getting better at letting go. Now, though, all of the regret and remorse he had repressed since that last fight they had in her living room is swelling inside his chest like a tidal wave threatening to pull him under.

Kate lowers her gaze, any trace of a smile completely gone now, and glances towards the stairs in retreat. "I'm - like I said, I should go to bed-"

"I never told you I loved you," he murmurs, studying the fingers at her side as they freeze and then begin to tremble. "I think I regret that most."

"Don't," she whispers back, her eyes fluttering shut, that shaking hand rising to clutch at her ribs, as if he's wounded her with the verbal blow. "Please don't, Rick."

He nods, because they're both exhausted and she's never been good at talking about them and this broken thing between them even on her best days, but he leans forward before she can escape, skims a kiss to her forehead.

"I'll still make you pancakes," he promises her as he pulls away, leaving her standing dazed in his kitchen while he disappears into his office that will lead to the relative safety of a bedroom swollen with memories of her.

* * *

The heat of his breath on her skin, the fleeting brush of his lips, remains burned into her flesh, her forehead fevered and branded and she _hates_ him for it. Hates herself for moving into this overly expensive building with horrible pipes, for getting involved with the writer with the piercing blue eyes and lopsided smile that had awakened the elusive butterflies in her stomach while helping her haul a giant painting into the elevator on that very first day.

She hates herself for loving him back.

They had never exchanged the words, not after six months of knowing one another, five months of sharing beds and hearts, but she had felt it. She had known that she had been at risk of loving him since the first time she had fallen into his bed and allowed him to eradicate the ice lingering in her veins with the fire of his flesh and the warmth of his mouth.

But then he had found her homemade murder board in her office, the evidence decorating the shudders and every inch of the glass windows. She had told him about her mom early on, during a late night after the homicide of a forty year old mother had landed in her lap and she had spent her evening consoling the victim's daughter, relating to her anguish all too well. They had only been seeing each other for a month, but she told him everything, trusted him with every detail, every shattered piece of her damaged heart, and she thought he had understood. It wasn't until he found the makeshift board, learned that she was trying to investigate again that she realized he didn't, that no one could.

Just like everyone before him, he had tried to talk her out of it and she had been stubborn, hid away in her mother's case exactly as he had accused her of.

"We are over. Now get out," she had snarled at him, expecting another shouting match in return, but his dark blue eyes had shuddered closed on her, all traces of light faded, and he had respected her wishes, her choice, and done the last thing she had ever truly wanted.

He left her alone.

Kate growls and rolls over in his guest bed, checks the alarm clock on the bedside table and groans in quiet frustration at the 2:17 glaring back at her. She's been tossing and turning for four hours, hardly gaining a full five minutes of sleep, all because of _him._ So she shoves the sheets that smell like his laundry detergent from her body, forgoes the idea of tugging on the sweatpants she had originally changed into before bed, and exits the room in nothing more than her underwear and one of the only t-shirts she currently owns.

The path to his office from the stairs is a blur, but once she finally reaches the threshold between his workspace and his bedroom, she hesitates. She doesn't want to hurt him again, doesn't want to do the same to herself in the process, but it's been three months and she's sick of the 'if only's echoing in her head.

Kate holds her breath, turns the handle of his bedroom door without making a sound, and peeks inside. Castle is asleep, rolled on his stomach with an arm curled around the pillow that she once considered hers. He always leaves his curtains askew, the glow of the city outside providing a streak of light that spills over his back, and Kate releases her breath at the familiar sight, feels the want spread warm and right through her veins.

Her mother deserves justice, and she won't give up on the uphill battle for closure, but sacrificing her life and everything - everyone - in it that matters is not what her mother would want. Her mom would want her to be happy and Richard Castle had made her happier than she had been in years, happier than she could have ever imagined.

And apparently, it took a flooded apartment for her to finally see that.

Kate pads across the chilled hardwood flooring of his bedroom on bare feet, climbs onto the mattress and crawls across the mess of sheets and the wrinkled comforter until she's hovering at his back, bracing a hand near his shoulder so she can bend down, dust her lips along his cheek.

"Castle," she murmurs, moving her hand to his nape, grazing her fingers through the short hairs at the base of his skull and feeling his body ripple with awareness beneath hers.

Castle's arm flexes around the pillow, his brow furrowing and she trails her mouth upwards, pressing her lips to the edge of a troubled eyebrow. His eyes blink open at that and Kate eases back a little, allows him the space to come awake and find her in the darkness.

"Kate?" he rasps, shifting on his side to stare up at her, his eyes slit with sleep and confusion, but she doesn't give him the chance to blink through the puzzlement of slumber, her body sinking down to hover above him once more. Closer than she's been in months. Rick's hand untangles from the sheets and lifts to her jawline, skimming the bone with mesmeric tenderness before he sits up, welcoming the slide of her knee over his lap and the settle of her body against his with a surprised breath. "What are you doing here?"

"You drenched my apartment," she reminds him, smiling at the huff he releases in response and the accompanying squeeze of his hand at her thigh that causes his eyes to go wide.

"Oh, you're..." His gaze drifts down to the bare legs bracketing his waist, his Adam's apple bobbing as his hands glide upwards to rest on the safe, covered points of her hipbones. "Where are your pants?" he croaks, and she shouldn't laugh, but she does, stifling the sound in his neck and humming when his palms rise to rest at her back, spreading warmth through her muscles and up her spine.

"I was kind of in a hurry. Had something important to tell you" Kate explains, pulling back to see his face, ignoring the nerves flickering to life in her stomach. His eyes are sharp and alert now, watching her with a heartbreaking mixture of anticipation and dread that she's not proud of creating, and she retracts one of her hands from the resting place of his shoulders, startles him with the brush of her fingertips to his frown lines. "I'm so sorry, Rick."

"S-sorry?" he echoes, catching her wrist and tugging her hand from his face, pinning their clashing fingers to the middle of his sternum as he studies her with a deeply knitted brow. "Kate, you haven't done anything-"

"I ruined us," she whispers, silencing his bubbling assurances, and lowers her gaze to the exposed skin of his chest peeking from the vee of his t-shirt. Her own chest feels tight from her admission, self-made grief filling the spaces between her ribs, and she rocks forward in his lap, extricates her hand from his to cradle his face in her palms and press her forehead to his. Castle sucks in a breath, his hands jerking back to her hips, ready to pry her away, but she nudges his nose, presses in even closer, and hopes he believes the next words that fall from her mouth. "But I never stopped wanting you."

* * *

He's had this dream before.

Dreamt quite regularly of Kate Beckett sneaking into his apartment, into his bed, waking him with her voice in his ear and her body at his side. For a long moment, when he peels his eyes back to the soft hum of her voice, the soothing touch of her hand at his back, he's certain that he's having that dream again. Not surprising considering her reprising role in his life and the fact that she was staying in the loft for the first time in months - albeit, in the wrong bed - but Kate from his dreams is never so tender, so tentative and restrained. And not even in his dreams has she ever apologized for the fight that broke them.

Her fingers curl at his ears and he notices her lip is trapped between her teeth, a sign of apprehension, and he wants nothing more than to assure her that it's mutual, that the yearning to have her back never receded, but part of him is still terrified of her, of how much he can love her and how vulnerable that makes him.

"Your mother's case," he gets out around a thick swallow, his throat still scratchy with sleep and the shock of having her back in his bed. "Whoever's behind it, they could come after you and I can't watch you die, can't-"

"No," she breathes, the decisive shake of her head causing her hair to fall in waves around their faces. "Castle, I don't - I just want you. I want you more."

Surprise spirals through his system and his heart begins to hammer, pounding against his ribs, upsetting the careful rhythm of his breathing.

"Devoting my entire life to her death... she wouldn't be happy with that, I'm not happy with it," she confesses, her eyes diverting to his shoulder with shame and regret flaring in the hazel irises. "One day I'll solve her case, without drowning in it, and I want you with me when I do."

"I will be," he promises, too willing to agree to every word out of her mouth, but - but he's just so tired of missing her and if he can have her back, he'll play the role of her partner in this case without a second thought. "I'll be there and we'll find justice for her, Kate. The right way."

She nods, unconvinced but accepting. "But until then, I'm putting it away, focusing on the more important aspects of my life."

"Like?" Castle's brow hitches in question, hope blooming bright and dangerous in his chest, and her lips curl as she tilts forward, brushes her mouth over his in a feather soft kiss that has him needing more and when she stays, her lips parted in offering, he takes.

Kate moans in quiet approval as he slants his mouth over hers, slides his hands into her hair to angle her, deepening the kiss as his entire body exalts at the fulfilled craving of her. She doesn't hold back, of course, she never has, and he tightens his grip in her hair, growls around the nip of her teeth to his bottom lip, the flush press of her hips in the cradle of his. It's a little raw, a rough clash of teeth and tongues and the surge of her body into his - everything he wanted to do to her that night she kicked him out - and desperate, the ache of missing her fierce and living like a starving beast in the inferno she's lit within his abdomen.

"You," she gasps, wrapping her arms around his neck, his head, her entire frame curled around him. "You, you, just you," she chants, her gaze serious and pleading as it lifts to hold his, the soft fringe of her lashes tangling in his while her chest still heaves, breasts pushing up against him.

Castle rolls her, swallowing the mewl that climbs her throat when he sinks down to rest atop her, finding home between the taut muscles of her thighs. Her back arches with impatience that he recognizes and Rick snags the hem of her oversized t-shirt, pushes the worn fabric of the sleep shirt up to reveal the flat of her stomach, the creamy skin that calls for his claim.

Her hands cup his skull as he kisses a path up her abdomen, her torso, scraping his teeth and gliding his tongue over each newly revealed patch of skin as he peels her shirt off. They work together to toss the t-shirt from her body and then she's lying beneath him, gorgeous and bare save for the black cotton that still clings to her hips, and Castle feels his breath catch.

"Kate." Her eyes flutter open, liquid gold pools shimmering up at him, and her legs twine around his waist, drawing him down, his body sinking deeper into the cove of hers. The urgency still crackles between them, the need to make up for time lost, but she takes her time when she captures his mouth, suckling at his bottom lip and stroking her tongue along the roof of his mouth with a reverence he's never experienced before.

"Castle." He blinks, dazed from the worship of her lips, from the smile that has spread so bright and beautiful across her face. "I love you too."

* * *

 _Prompt: You live in the apartment above me and your water pipe burst and is flooding into my apartment and you can hear me yelling so you come down to my apartment to see what's going on and witness me standing in my kitchen, holding an umbrella, screaming at the water pouring out of my ceiling, and crying because I have no idea what to do and we both just kinda stand there in shock as my stuff gets ruined and you let me crash in your apartment until my apartment gets fixed because you feel bad AU._


End file.
